


to be loved

by laughtales



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Communication, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon Azure Moon, Rough Sex, Soft sex, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier, light angst for sylvain's self-worth issues, lots and lots of kissing, nine parts feeling, one part porn, they love each other so fucking much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughtales/pseuds/laughtales
Summary: Felix is inexperienced in matters of sex and lets Sylvain take the reigns in the bedroom. Trust Sylvain to know exactly how he likes it even though Felix doesn't even know himself.He doesn't even stop to think about what Sylvain might prefer and when he does, it turns the world on its head.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 250





	to be loved

There are three truths about Sylvain Jose Gautier that Felix knows with absolutely certainty. He knows them like he knows the sky is blue and Faerghus is cold. Like he knows breathing and his blade and even then, he believes these truths over everything else because the world could shatter and his body may break but these three things will never be untrue.

One: Sylvain is the most selfishly selfless person Felix knows. He’s always the first to volunteer for dangerous, potentially suicidal missions. He throws himself between a friend and death without regard to the cost. Decided all on his own that Felix’s, Ingrid’s, _anyone of their friends_ , lives have more worth and value than his own. Willing to make that exchange without considering those he’d leave behind. And if he does, _when_ he does (Sylvain thinks more than he lets on), he makes the trade anyway, believing the pain he’ll inflict is worth it. He’d rather they hurt and hate and _live_. As long as it’s his life for theirs. After all, his title, his money, and his Crest are all that matter, right? He hates each more than the other and would _happily_ give it all up for something he values more. In the end, he hates himself more than the combined hate of all the women he’s left heartbroken. All the pains and self-hatred he carries, he masks it with an easy smile and pretty words. Sylvain accepts what little value he has in what he has to offer to those he cares about – his capability as a solider, his sharp mind and silver tongue, his body. He’ll give and give, without a care for himself, until there’s nothing left and even then, he’d try to take all the blame and guilt and suffering with him to the grave if he could.

It’s a huge part of what Felix loves about Sylvain. Something he’s incapable of, no matter what their friends say about his loyalty. It’s also the thing he hates the most about him. Sylvain will give and Felix will take and one day, his greatest fear will come true. He’ll take more than he knows because Sylvain gives so freely and there’ll be nothing left but memories and a broken promise to remember him by.

Two: Sylvain loves Felix with his everything and then some. It had taken Felix time to learn this truth, considering how Sylvain went through partners like bloodied gloves – fresh and new and comfortable, used and then discarded. Felix listened to Sylvain’s words with a bucket of salt, all pretty words and empty promises. Even after they had gotten together, Felix kept worrying that one day, he’d wake to an empty bed and a broken heart and some monster in his soul would say _I told you so_. But Sylvain’s actions spoke louder than his words. Despite his silver tongue, he never spoke a lie, not even a half-truth to Felix. He kept their childhood promise through a bloody war and honored ones even Felix doesn’t remember them making. The little things. _I got your favorites. You were running low on sword oil, I picked some up at the market. There’s some sauce on your face,_ Sylvain had said fondly before reaching over the table and wiping it away. The way Sylvain looked at Felix like he’d hung the stars in the sky and makes the sun rise each morning. Like Sylvain’s beating heart and lungs that drew breath existed for the sole purpose of loving Felix.

Sylvain’s love is a thing that weighs heavy on Felix’s heart. So much so that he feels he could be crushed by the force of it. Felix kills and destroys and protects. He’s never held something so precious in his hands and he doesn’t know if the strength he hones is enough to keep it safe. It terrifies him. Felix loves Sylvain, wants to love him as much as Sylvain loves him but Sylvain’s love is limitless and timeless and Felix doesn’t know if that capability is within him.

And points one and two culminate into a truth Felix can’t put into words, but it means this: If Felix asked, Sylvain would cut out his own heart and wrap it up in a pretty bow with a bloody, radiant, unfairly beautiful smile.

* * *

Felix likes fucking like he trains. Like he fights. Hard and rough, fast and precise. He savors the bruises on his hips and the soreness, both serving as reminders of Sylvain’s touch and the bliss he puts him in.

Sylvain takes him from behind, one hand scorching fingerprints onto his hip and the other bracing his weight beside Felix’s hanging head. He barely supports his own weight let alone Sylvain’s draping like a blanket across his back. Sylvain thrusts into Felix with abandon, just the right side of pain and each breath is punched from Felix’s lungs. Every sound dredged from the pit of his soul as Sylvain pants and whispers filthy words in his ear. _You take me so well, Fe. Made for me, made to take my cock. You’ll be feeling me for days, every time you sit, every step you take, every time you train, you’ll feel how good I fucked you. You like that, don’t you? Being wrecked by me. Don’t touch yourself, come on my cock. You can do it. You can come for me, right? That’s it baby, let go._

Felix comes with a broken moan, Sylvain fucking him through his orgasm. The arm around his waist the only thing holding him up. As Felix comes down from his high, Sylvain pulls out and flips him over.

Through the haze of pleasure, Felix realizes Sylvain hasn’t come yet. Exhausted and boneless as he is, Felix still manages to wrap his legs around Sylvain’s waist as he drives back into Felix’s body. Despite being surely on the brink himself, Sylvain is patient as Felix fights through the pain of overstimulation, gently rolling his hips in ways that send warm spikes of pleasure and tremors up his spine.

Sylvain has a wrist in each hand as he pins Felix to the bed, splaying Felix beneath him. The marks decorating his neck and chest on perfect display on the backdrop of his long dark hair fanned out on the sheets. In turn, Felix takes in how beautiful Sylvain looks above him, skin flush and sweaty, hair messy, dopey smile, and pure adoration and lust in his eyes.

It takes the barest tilt of his head to get Sylvain to kiss him, practically growling as he licks hot and wet into his mouth. Felix nudges Sylvain with his heel weakly in the small of his back. The message gets across. Sylvain grins against his lips and it’s all the warning he gets before Sylvain is fucking him again, driving into him hard and fast. Felix purges all his thoughts, chanting Sylvain’s name like a prayer.

Sylvain comes with a breathy groan of Felix’s name as he buries himself deep inside. Felix is aware he came again at some point but is too fucked out to pinpoint the moment or how he got there. He doesn’t really care. He feels when Sylvain pulls out; it sends a wave of satisfying soreness up his spine.

Sylvain’s warmth leaves him suddenly and completely and he frowns, trying to prop himself up but sleep is already dragging him down. He manages a fumbling hand in search of him instead. There’s only a moment before it’s held and squeezed and a kiss is pressed to his palm. “I’m here, love. Just cleaning up,” Sylvain murmurs into his skin.

“Sleep,” Felix grunts. Or at least he tries to. It ends up being a garbled string of syllables, hardly more than a whisper.

“I will.” Sylvain wipes sweat and cum from Felix’s body, keeping a hand on him the entire time. Felix’s eyes droop but he fights sleep as best he can as Sylvain caresses every mark lovingly.

He lets sleep finally take him when he feels Sylvain slide next to him and gather him on his chest, lulled by the warmth and the relaxing rise and fall of his chest.

Felix wakes in Sylvain’s arms at the crack of dawn. He’s not one for lazing in the morning but he can’t help but admire Sylvain’s sleeping face – the curl of his lashes, the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, an almost invisible scar by his hairline from a childhood accident.

Something twinges in his heart at the memory. They’d been playing by a creek near the Fraldarius manor, splashing each other in the shallows. Felix had slipped on a mossy rock and Sylvain dove to catch him. Stupid move. Sylvain landed on a jagged rock and Felix had still sprained and cut up his ankle. He remembers crying from the pain and then wailing because _Sylvain,_ _there’s so much blood_ , in his hair and flowing down his face despite Sylvain reassuring him _that’s just how head cuts are Fe, they bleed a lot. I’m okay, please don’t cry._

It was not okay. By the time Sylvain carried him back to the manor and Glenn and Dimitri and Ingrid had come rushing out to meet them, the front of Sylvain’s shirt was bright red. For all that Sylvain wrapped Felix’s ankle, he didn’t do more than wipe the blood out of his eye before setting off with Felix on his back. Sylvain nearly passed out from the blood loss. It got them both a harsh scolding.

Even when they were children, Sylvain took care of him, comforting in spite of his own pain.

Felix’s breath wisps locks of red that fall into his face. _He’s beautiful,_ Felix thinks. He kisses Sylvain softly, the barest touching of lips before quietly slipping from Sylvain’s hold, careful not to wake him.

Two glasses of water catch Felix’s eye across the room, put there by Sylvain last night. It’s only then that Felix realizes how parched his throat is and the arid Faerghus weather has nothing to do with it. It does have everything to do with all the screaming and moaning of Sylvain’s name he did. His face warms as he recalls.

Exhaustion and the soreness of his body hits him all at once when he tries to stand. His legs buckle and he yelps, landing in a very undignified heap on the ground.

“Fe?” Sylvain calls sleepily from above. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sits and searches for Felix.

Felix flails an arm as he tries to stand again, giving away his location. “Don’t say. A word,” Felix croaks. His face burns even harder. He’s torn through enemy lines in worse condition but he can’t stand properly after being fucked by his lover? How humiliating.

Sylvain laughs and swings himself off the side of the bed. Felix has managed to pull himself onto the edge by the time Sylvain returns to his side with the water. Thankfully he makes no impudent comments or else Felix might have to demand celibacy for a while and neither of them want that.

“Thanks,” Felix mumbles. The relief it brings to his throat is immediate.

Felix is pulled flush to Sylvain’s side when he settles next to him. Gentle kisses rain down on the top of his head and Sylvain gingerly touches the bruises he’d left. Felix shivers. “Want me to draw you a bath? I really did a number on you. It’ll help with the soreness.”

“Okay,” Felix says. He’s not usually this affectionate or cuddly in the morning but he’s in a mood and there isn’t anything particularly urgent on his schedule today. “But stay like this a little longer.” Felix rests his head against Sylvain’s chest, closing his eyes and listening to the steady beat of Sylvain’s heart.

“Anything you want, Fe.”

Felix sinks into the water, temperature just right and sighs contently. Sylvain had washed before and is now dressed in fresh clothes, perched beside the bathtub. Felix would’ve liked if Sylvain joined him but sadly, Sylvain’s duties start earlier than his own today and there’s no guarantee they won’t get handsy. Instead, Sylvain keeps Felix company as long as he can before he has to go. Felix feels the oils work their magic and tension bleeds out of him as Sylvain gently massages his shoulders. His hips and lower back still sting when he shifts but not cripplingly so. “I forget you can be an animal sometimes,” Felix sighs. It’s not a complaint, not in the least. He couldn’t be more content about it.

Sylvain chuckles. “I thought that line was reserved for His Majesty,” he says playfully.

“Don’t bring him up in bed,” Felix grimaces. “Don’t. Be smart.” He adds before Sylvain has the chance to say something cheeky.

“Okay, I’ll keep it to myself,” Sylvain laughs. “But you like it. Not the part about you-know-who. You like it when I fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Shut up.” Felix blushes up to his ears and down to his collarbones.

The words echo in his head. And then he turns the seemingly meaningless dirty talk from the night before over as well. _You like it._ It’s a phrase Sylvain says so frequently it usually washes right over him.

A dawning realization hits Felix, hard. ”…Wait. Do _you_?” Dread coils in the pit of his stomach.

“I like what you like.” Sylvain replies after a beat. It’s one beat too many. Felix feels like he’s just been plunged into the frigid winter waters off the coast of Gautier.

“ _Goddess_ , Sylvain.”

“I mean it, Felix. As long as I get to be with you-“ Sylvain reaches for him and flinches when Felix recoils.

“For fucks sake, Sylvain!” Felix explodes, splashing water over the edge of the tub. “I don’t-!” He wills himself to take a deep breath. The next thing he says sounds broken even to his own ears. “I don’t want to use you.”

“You’re not,” Sylvain says immediately. “Never.”

Felix slumps, the fight leaving him as quickly as it came. “Well it feels like it.”

“I didn’t mean to,“ Sylvain kneels next to the tub, eye level with Felix even though Felix still can’t meet his eyes. “It’s not what you think, Felix. Please believe me. I don’t not like it.” He reaches out again, slowly, and Felix doesn’t recoil this time but he also doesn’t meet Sylvain halfway. Crestfallen, Sylvain hovers for a moment before withdrawing.

Sylvain stands and heads for the door, ready to leave and as much as Felix cannot handle conversation right now, the last thing he wants is for Sylvain to leave thinking he doesn’t want him. “Wash my hair?” He says as Sylvain reaches for the handle. It’s wrong of him. He may have phrased it like a question but he knows full well that Sylvain won’t refuse, and it sits miserably in his stomach when Sylvain rolls up his sleeves.

Sylvain gently lathers the shampoo into his hair, massages his scalp, and helps him rinse.

Not a word is spoken between them as he does.

Before he leaves, he sets a towel aside for Felix. It’s warm to the touch.

The door clicks closed behind him.

Sylvain didn’t kiss him goodbye.

They don’t cross paths for the rest of the day. The closest they get is Felix seeing Sylvain across the courtyard on his way to the training grounds. If Sylvain notices him back, he doesn’t show it, maintaining conversation with the messenger. Felix doesn’t linger.

The manor staff are justifiably concerned. Ever since they started living together, they can’t recall a time the two lords were so distant. One is almost always with the other unless duties called them away from the grounds. They often share a study even though they each have their own and there are regular reminders for the other to take breaks. Sometimes Sylvain will convince Felix to go riding – get a breath of fresh air and take in the beautiful scenery. Felix doesn’t particularly like riding so almost always, they ride double on Sylvain’s lovely warhorse. Other times Felix will half drag Sylvain to the training grounds despite his grumbling and they’ll go a few rounds. Sylvain may complain about how _training isn’t relaxing_ but he’s always eager and motivated because Felix always gives him a prize if he manages to win.

Felix barely has an appetite at dinner, poking at his food listlessly hoping Sylvain will appear and join him.

Sylvain still doesn’t turn up by the time he’s ready to turn in for the night. His stomach twists at the thought of sleeping alone in their bed while Sylvain stays in one of the many guest rooms.

The culmination of a day’s worth of loneliness aches hollowly as he lays down. Laughable. For all he claims to be a lone wolf and not needing companionship, he’s so _so_ empty and unhappy and it hasn’t even been a day without Sylvain. Sure, they sometimes spend days, weeks apart because of their responsibilities but never after they’ve fought.

All his fears are coming true and it’s eating Felix up. He doesn’t want to apologize; he’s justified to be upset. Of course it’s because Sylvain is Sylvain and it’s absolutely nothing new to him that Sylvain would indulge in all of Felix’s wants. Felix is frustrated with himself because _he knows_. He knows that Sylvain would neglect himself to make Felix happy and Felix _let him_. But that’s what Sylvain is good at so it’s not his fault, right? When Sylvain wants something (even when, _especially when_ , it’s the abstinence of his wants), he’s selfishly good at getting it.

Guilt and shame turn the thoughts in his head over and over. He has no idea how long he lays there consumed by the bitterness of it all but every thought makes him feel worse and worse. It doesn’t help that Sylvain’s scent is on the pillows. It also doesn’t help that his backside and lower back are still sore, a fact that he’s awfully reminded of when he rolls over to face the edge of the bed, away from the empty space where Sylvain would be were this any other night.

The door creaks and closes quietly. Felix freezes and holds his breath until he hears soft footsteps walking across the room. Despite how much Felix wants to get up and hold Sylvain and tell him how much he treasures him, he doesn’t. Instead, like the pathetic, inadequate coward that he is in matters of relationships, Felix pretends to sleep when he realizes Sylvain is walking over to him.

Sylvain stops next to him and Felix waits for him to expose him. He’s sure Sylvain can hear the thundering of his heartbeat. Instead of calling him out, Sylvain just sighs softly and reaches over to carefully tug out Felix’s hair tie. Deft fingers card through the strands as his hair comes undone. Felix never likes sleeping with his hair up. It gives him headaches in the morning but more importantly, Sylvain plays with it near constantly. If Sylvain notices Felix leaning into the touch, he doesn’t say anything.

Felix almost caves when Sylvain leans in and murmurs a tender _goodnight Fe_ against his forehead.

The mattress dips under Sylvain’s weight when he settles onto his side of the bed. Despite being mere inches away from each other, Felix feels like he’s stuck in the frozen tundra of Faerghus while Sylvain is a country away in Almyran deserts.

Felix caves when he rolls over and sees Sylvain curled close to the edge with his back to him. He reaches across the distance and shuffles up to him, placing an arm over around Sylvain’s waist. Sylvain stiffens at the touch.

“I missed you,” Felix says into Sylvain’s back.

Sylvain doesn’t turn around to hold Felix like he desperately wants but he does relax and lace their fingers together on his stomach. “I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

Silence sits heavily between them.

“You’re allowed to want things too,” Felix finally says, squeezing Sylvain’s hand.

Sylvain squeezes back. “I want you. In any way possible.”

“You already have me. In every way possible,” Felix says instantly. He can do this. Butterflies flutter in his stomach but he can do this. He coaxes Sylvain to roll over and finally, Felix is looking into the warmth of Sylvain’s eyes, heart aching at the sight of tears on his lashes.

“Hi,” Felix breathes.

“Hi.” Sylvain’s reply is equally fond.

Felix touches Sylvain’s cheek. “Please? Tell me?”

“It’s hard for me,” Sylvain confesses.

“I know.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.” Felix wipes a stray tear away. “I want to make you feel good too. But I’m not like you; I’m not good at this. I won’t know what you want unless you tell me.” He presses his forehead against Sylvain’s.

Sylvain doesn’t reply for a while and every second of silence makes his heart lurch. He wants this so badly. For Sylvain to let him give as well. Felix wants to do for Sylvain what Sylvain has been doing their entire lives. He wants Sylvain to accept that he deserves this because Felix _loves him._

Felix melts when Sylvain kisses him.

“Anything?” Sylvain whispers in the space between their lips.

Felix nods.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Why? Is it something really kinky? Don’t write me off before trying it.” Felix can’t help but wonder what it is that Sylvain is so reluctant to ask for. “But it doesn’t matter. If you want it, I want to at least try.”

“Okay,” Sylvain agrees and Felix’s heart soars. “Next time you’re up for it. What I want.” Sylvain pulls him into his chest.

Felix tucks his head under Sylvain’s chin and all feels right in the world.

Next time ends up being almost a month later. Felix being called away to Fhirdiad and Sylvain holding the fort down through a flash flood, scrambling former soldiers for search and rescue and relief of the villages affected.

Once Felix returns and everything is under control, Felix and Sylvain finally get time to themselves, retiring to their chambers early. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Sylvain pulls Felix in for a kiss. And then another. And another. Sylvain directs them to the bed without parting. Felix straddles Sylvain’s lap where they’re perched on the end, hands cupping Sylvain’s face. Sylvain’s hands are warm and steady on his back.

They kiss slow and languid, with none of the urgency they tend to even after so much time apart. Warmth spreads through Felix’s body, arousal becoming evident the longer they kiss. Sylvain too, if the bulge in his pants is anything to go by. Neither are in a rush to pay them any attention though; more than satisfied to just continue kissing. They’re both gasping for breath each time they part but it’s short-lived. Sylvain chases his lips like kissing Felix will bring more oxygen into his lungs than breathing.

Time ceases to exist beyond the two of them and Felix wouldn’t even mind if this is all Sylvain wanted to do tonight. He’s perfectly content to spend the night just like this – kissing Sylvain breathless, drunk on his taste and the way he shudders when Felix licks into his mouth _just right._

Eventually, Sylvain’s hand reaches for his ponytail and pulls out the tie holding it together. Felix shivers. He’s never going to tire of how enchanted Sylvain looks every time he watches Felix’s hair cascade free.

“You’re so beautiful, Felix.” Sylvain scratches lightly on his scalp before combing his fingers through the strands and Felix mewls, baring his throat. Sylvain peppers kisses along his jaw, his neck, anywhere Sylvain can reach without letting Felix go. “Can I have you?” Sylvain asks affectionately, mouthing against his pulse point.

As if Sylvain needs to ask.

“ _Yes_.”

Their lips meet again and Felix pours all his love and trust and want into the motion. Sylvain responds with equal vigor. He untucks the hem of Felix’s shirt and slides his hands underneath, gliding over Felix’s bare skin. They part only briefly for Sylvain to pull his shirt off and then Sylvain’s mouth chases every inch of exposed skin.

Felix gasps when Sylvain bites at the junction where his shoulder meets his neck before massaging it with his tongue apologetically. There’s no doubt it will bruise. Sylvain continues trailing open-mouthed kisses across his clavicles. Felix’s fingers fumble with the buttons of Sylvain’s shirt, thoroughly preoccupied with the trail of blooming marks Sylvain is surely leaving. “Off,” Felix demands shakily. “Want to touch.”

Sylvain finishes leaving a mark on the sensitive spot under Felix’s ear and reluctantly pulls away. Hauling his shirt over his head in one rippling motion, he bypasses the hassle of buttons altogether. Felix’s hands are on him in an instant, splaying over his muscles. “Better?” Sylvain purrs.

“Much,” Felix breathes. He sucks a mark of his own in the hollow of Sylvain’s throat and feels the groan escaping his throat before he hears it.

Leaning his weight forward, Felix tips them back onto the sheets, landing with a grunt. His hair curtains around them. Sylvain’s hazel eyes looking up at him are so dazed, Felix decides he wants another kiss.

Yeah, this is nice. He’s not even sure what exactly it is that Sylvain wants but this, he decides, this is more than nice.

“If it gets too much and you want me to stop, just say the word,” Sylvain says and what can Felix do but nod. Sylvain smiles and stretches up for a quick kiss before shifting up and gently rolling them over, reversing their positions.

Heat pools in his stomach in anticipation, so much that he has to make an effort not to squirm. It takes a moment to realize that Sylvain is just gazing down at him, face flushed, eyes bright, lips wet and plump stretched into a breathtaking smile.

It’s a perfect picture of adoration.

Felix has to look away to keep from being overwhelmed, face warming. “You want to just stare at me all night?”

Sylvain hums. “I could.” Felix’s cheeks _burn_ in the face of Sylvain’s sincerity. “But not tonight.”

Hands run down his sides and Felix shivers. Sylvain dips his head and makes it his personal mission to ruin him with soft touches and honeyed lips. Tracing every scar on his chest, every blemish, each scalding memory of _too close to losing you_ , Sylvain recounts their history and recites poetry about _how perfect, how beautiful, how strong and kind and loyal_ every part of Felix is and how _I’m so lucky and grateful to have you_.

Felix understands now why Sylvain thought Felix might not enjoy this. He’s not comfortable with attention let alone this much of it and every touch lights up his nerves. But this is Sylvain worshipping him like a starved man would a feast and it fills him with excitement instead of trepidation.

He arches off the bed involuntarily, writhing and moaning when Sylvain dips his tongue into his navel, straining in his pants but not wanting to rush things. “I love you so much, Fe. If only you knew.”

Felix knows.

His erection springs free when Sylvain finally pulls his bottoms off, smalls and all. Felix quivers at the exposure and the contrary feeling of cold air and Sylvain’s warm breath. The barest of attention is paid to his cock, red and hard and leaking, Sylvain ghosting kisses down his length.

Sylvain presses the flat of his tongue to the underside of his cock and licks a hot stripe up the length of it. Hands fly to grab at Sylvain’s hair, the muscles in his abs straining to keep him upright. The moan that comes out echoes in the room. The edge of lust, of needing to be touched, is taken off as Sylvain blows him. Felix fights not to buck into his mouth even when Sylvain hums and encourages him to. Instead he pulls lightly on Sylvain’s hair, not enough to hurt, just enough for Sylvain to get the message and pull off, but not before lapping up the bead of precum on the tip.

Were it any other time, Felix would accuse him of being a tease and swallow his pride and beg for more, for Sylvain to _hurry the fuck up_. He doesn’t do that today. Doesn’t even want to today. Just pulls Sylvain up to taste himself on his tongue.

“Keep going,” Felix sighs against Sylvain.

They both know he’s not talking about the blowjob.

Sylvain’s reply is a chaste kiss to his cheek, more intimate in that moment than anything else.

The same treatment as before is delivered to the scars on his thighs and legs. The touch so tender, he’s a quivering mess. He’s overwhelmed, physically and emotionally and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s mesmerized with the way Sylvain cherishes him, lost in the passing time and sensations.

He doesn’t realize Sylvain is crying until he’s pressing a kiss to a scar that doesn’t exist on the inside of his ankle and something drops on the skin there.

“Sylvain?” Felix asks, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Sylvain rises and holds Felix to his chest. Felix runs his hands soothingly up and down his back, fearing the worst, that he’s messed up again when he hears Sylvain speak.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Sylvain says, holding him closer. “Promise. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m just so _happy_.”

He doesn’t need to explain. Felix understands. He understands all the things Sylvain wants to convey from the trembling of his shoulders as he holds Felix and sobs ceaseless confessions into his ear _._ Felix understands. Not with words; with the entire essence of his core. He feels it so deeply in his soul, he wants to hold Sylvain like this and spend the entire night telling him all the ways he loves and treasures and is equally lucky and grateful to have him until if finally gets through that thick-walled skull of his that _Sylvain_ _is_ _loved._

When Sylvain finally lays them down and prepares him, the touch is gentle and loving and warm. Sylvain caresses inside him in ways that make his toes curl and his voice crack. And when Sylvain enters him, slowly, almost agonizingly so, it’s everything Felix wants.

Sylvain thrusts deep and powerful into him, dragging against his walls and swallowing all the heady sounds he makes. Their pace is unhurried and sensuous and contrary in almost every way to the hard, fast fuck they usually have. The common denominator being how _good_ Sylvain makes him feel.

Sylvain makes love to him so perfectly tears spring to his own eyes. Felix feels like he’s been hollowed out and filled with nothing but the culmination of their love. He thought he’s already hit the roof but of course, the contradiction of Sylvain shows him there’s more to feel, more to share, more love to have.

They finish together on the steady crescendo of pleasure that builds and climbs until nothing else in the world exists but bliss and love and _Sylvain and Felix_.

_“I love you.”_

Sylvain stays with him in the aftermath, laying in the mess they made. Felix holds Sylvain on his chest, settled into the pillows and under the covers, muttering affections into his sweaty hair and drawing lazy circles on his back.

Felix doesn’t know if he can handle this level of overwhelming _feeling_ on the regular but he’s so fulfilled right now in a way he’s never felt before. He can tell it’s the same for Sylvain and he looks forward to getting the chance to reciprocate.

“So, about all the kinky stuff you thought I wanted to do to you.” Even though Felix can’t feel the quirk of Sylvain’s smile, he can hear the cheeky lilt in his voice.

“Shut up.”

Sylvain noses playfully at Felix’s neck. “Is that a no?”

“…No.” He feels the pout against his collarbone. “Another time,” Felix promises. “Now be quiet and sleep.”

A soft hum of agreement vibrates against his chest. Felix almost thinks Sylvain has fallen asleep already, but then. “Can I have a goodnight kiss?” Sylvain asks almost shyly, which Felix finds cute and absurdly silly all things considered.

Felix happily obliges.

**Author's Note:**

> Felix's new kink is making Sylvain feel so loved he cries.


End file.
